


She Was Never Like Me, But She Was Always Mine.

by vesnake11



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesnake11/pseuds/vesnake11
Summary: When Emma Nolan first came out, it wasn’t the first time she thought she lost everything. It was the third.





	She Was Never Like Me, But She Was Always Mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on roombaa’s headcanons for an AU where Emma is hard of hearing, as first seen in The Prom Discord. If dialogue has asterisks before it, it is in ASL. Easier than specifying it every time. Also, this is on time for Unruly Hearts Week Part 2’s AU day? How?

When Emma was 7, and in 3rd grade, she got a double ear infection. Her parents thought it wasn't a big deal. Not a big deal, that is, until 3 days later. Emma's fever hit 103 at 2 in the morning. They rush her to the ER, but no matter what she was given, the fever kept climbing. This went on until 2 p.m. that afternoon when a delirious Emma woke up from a fitful sleep. Her mother hovering over her, mouthing something. Which Emma couldn't hear. It sounded like mush. She looked at her mother in dazed confusion, but she just smiled sweetly and left the room. That was when Emma began to shriek. Louder than she ever had before. At least she was kind of able to hear herself. The doctors ran loads of tests, but Emma couldn't hear the machines. The frequencies of the beeps were too high. But she didn't know that yet.

The doctors determined that she was suffering from cognitive deterioration in her ear tubes, along with her fever. As it was, she was basically deaf. In a decade, it wouldn't be suffering, but she had to get through it first.

There was a specific memory of the day she went back to her third-grade class. Her parents seemed to deny her conditions at first. They didn't inform anyone at school of the past week, but it became evident there was something wrong when she got called on to answer a question and couldn't. She had her book open; following what everyone else was doing, but could barely hear the question. A couple of question words. What does...how...it... She remained silent until someone else was called on. Something about an apple. Then there was recess. The nightmare called recess. Emma was playing by herself in the sandbox when another girl approached her. Emma couldn't hear her footsteps, and when she vocally announced herself, it was chopped up bits like every other conversation she could barely even pick up on. The girl tapped her shoulder, and Emma turned around, startled.

The girl smirked. “Can you hear me now?!” She bellowed at the top of her lungs. The entire playground turned to look.

“Y-yeah, why?” Emma asked.

“I’ve been behind you.” The girl said sassily, with the same volume.

“What? O-oh. My bad.”

At this volume, Emma could hear most of the sentence, but it was muffled, faint and distant. Almost as if she was underwater. 

“Why couldn’t you answer that question during our English lesson?” The girl’s voice went back to normal volume, but there was a sharpness to it Emma could practically feel.

When people spoke at a normal volume, it was beginning to feel to Emma like she was 50 feet away from them. Sentences broken and chopped, barely getting to her. The words and fragments she got barely made sense and were barely audible.

So now, here she was, being interrogated by a voice that cracks in and out, 7 years old, barely able to understand the situation. And to Emma, this cracking voice asked, 

“Why...answer that...our… lesson?” 

And that was when Emma realized how detrimental losing her hearing was. She was going to lose everything. She was going to be alone. She couldn’t do anything about it.

So she just meekly responded, “Could you say that again?”

The girl huffed, turning away before quietly uttering, “You must be stupid.”

Emma didn’t even have a concept that the conversation was over until she saw the other girl with her group of friends, back in the indistinguishable mist of noise. Then she was left to herself, wondering how she would still manage to play the guitar with her grandfather, who had been teaching her how to play using his own instrument for almost a year at that point. She couldn’t lose her friends, and she couldn’t lose music. Those things meant too much. Emma spent the rest of recess hiding tears; only knowing it was over when everyone stampeded out of the playground. 

Incidents like these went on for a week. Emma lost all her friends before her teachers paid any mind, and only then did they contact her parents. Even so, every adult in the room seemed to skirt around the subject of the inevitable truth. As if the idea of Emma being hard of hearing was a curse. As if it condemned her to a life of tragedy. That was what they grew up knowing; that’s what it was for them. In a pre-ADA world, the abled defined and spoke for the experiences of the disabled, when they did nothing to bring out the reality that disabled people wanted to be freed from these norms, wanted to be human, and not smudges blurred by the burdens they thought they were giving through things they needed to live.

However, Emma was in the room, and it was 2008 now. They were legally required to give her a voice, and the adults were forced to hear the truth as Emma squeaked out a single sentence.

“Could you say that again?” 

Her new lifeline. Because she accepted what was before the role models in her life did, but couldn’t say a thing because she couldn’t process the world around her without them accepting it and helping her through it first. But the people around her were yet to figure that out until it was the end goal, whether they wanted to or not.

Her mother homeschooled her for the rest of her third and fourth-grade years. In doing so, Emma could figure out ways for her to communicate, and adapt to the world around her. ASL, along with various different gestures people could understand. As Emma was gradually getting more comfortable with that, she started talking less. Until one day, she went completely mute. She associated talking with hearing, and being mocked for not being able to, so she was just more comfortable with it.

She didn’t have any friends, though. After leaving her elementary school, her old friends just saw her as weird. Despite the fact she was learning to adapt, she’d never felt more alone. This made her parents figure she was better off in a smaller town. Now she went from ‘probably the only disabled one’ to ‘definitely the only disabled one’. As it were, Emma’s 8th birthday came and went with no notable celebration.

Her ninth was a little different. It came with a package from her grandparents, along with a letter written by her grandpa.

My little rockstar, I am so sorry I didn’t send birthday wishes last year. But I heard about what happened before then, and I wanted to do a little research and make your present perfect, even if it took 2 years. For 4 months, your grandmother and I have been in New York, learning as much as we can about the deaf community. A month ago, we stumbled upon a music store and found a bass amplifier that we can attach to my guitar so we can still play together. It probably works on the radio, too. I hope it was worth the wait. You deserve music as much as anyone else, and I know you love it more than anything. I can’t wait to see you again. Nana and I are thinking of moving out to Edgewater with you and your parents. In the meantime, Happy Birthday. I hope this year brings you successes big and small. I am so proud of how far you’ve gotten. Love, Popsy.

Emma was thrilled enough by the box and its contents, but Emma’s parents had another surprise. They finally saved up enough money to get Emma hearing aids. They said she could go back to regular school, and contacted the new district back when they first moved so the schools in the district could mandate that the teachers learn ASL, and offered sign language as an option to students ensure that Emma would have friends to talk to. 

Only one girl took the opportunity initially, though. Her name was Alyssa Greene. She was in Emma’s grade, and she remembered very well the conversation she had with her mother about missing recess 3 times a week to take that class for 20 minutes a day.

“I think this would be good for you, Alyssa. It’ll come in handy on a resumè someday. I’m not forcing you, because Daddy wouldn’t want that.” Her mother said. 

They were sitting in front of the computer monitor, reading the article the district posted on the topic. All a naive Alyssa saw in it was a chance to be a good friend.

“I’ll do it,” she stated. 

Soon enough, the first day of fifth grade rolled around, and Emma is beyond excited. She didn’t stop moving her hands since she woke up that morning. Her parents chuckled as she skipped around the house, footsteps so grand that she could feel them in the floor. She loved that feeling. It reminded her of the beat of the songs she played on her radio using her bass amplifier.

Alyssa was a little shocked to find a new student in her class on the first day of fifth grade. She was going to say hi, but Shelby was insistent that she hang back.

“Look at her ears,” Shelby whispered. “They’ve got metal sticking out.” 

She pointed to Emma’s hearing aids. Lucky for her, Emma was too absorbed in her work to look up and notice.

“Are you saying she’s a robot?” Alyssa’s other friend, Kaylee, asked. Her eyes looked wild with fear.

“She could be,” Shelby said. “We don’t know.”

It didn’t take long for them to adopt the nickname ‘Robot Ears’. What made her seem stranger is that she never spoke.

It took until recess for Alyssa to convince the other two that one of them should just talk to Emma. They nominated Alyssa quickly. So, as calm as possible, she approached her. 

“Hey.” Alyssa said quietly, off-put when Emma didn’t seem to notice.

“H-hey.” She tried again, a little louder.

This time, Emma turned around. Alyssa could tell immediately that she was terrified, from the scrunched eyebrows to the pursed lips. Emma waved, mouthing an apology as Alyssa sat down in the sandbox across from her. Alyssa sighed, looking at her friends from the distance, she knew they’d eavesdrop. So she decided to try something. Sign language.

*”Can you understand this?”

Emma nodded eagerly, visibly shocked that someone cared enough to talk to her, or even bother to learn the language she spoke. *”I’d, um, prefer it. It’s easier, for me…”

*”Sorry if it’s annoying, but I don’t want my friends to hear this.” 

Alyssa gestured behind Emma, where Kaylee and Shelby were gawking.

*”They think you’re weird.” 

*”I think I’m weird,” Emma smirked oddly. *”Nobody else talks like this.”

Alyssa couldn’t stop the smile that emerged on her face as her cheeks began to burn. She liked this girl. Maybe too much.

*”That’s what I wanted to ask about. Why don’t you talk...you know...normally?”

Emma was a little off-put by being called not normal directly, but she answered the question regardless.

*“It makes it easier to get words out when you know they’re being pronounced correctly.” Emma chuckled as she finished the statement.

*”What do you mean?”

*”Well, I can’t hear like everyone else. Everything sounds far away. That’s why I didn’t notice you at first.”

*“Oh.” 

Alyssa paused, looking over Emma’s shoulder again.

*”Is that why you have those things in your ears?” 

Emma nodded.

*”That’s cool!” Alyssa noticed Emma’s visible discomfort and tried to find light in the topic. *”You can turn off your ears!”

Emma was very good at showing things visually. Almost as if she went to school for it.

Emma shrugged. *”I guess...”

Alyssa glanced away briefly. *“I gotta go! See you later! My name’s Alyssa, by the way!”

*”Emma…”

Just like that, Alyssa was gone, but with her implications she’d see her again, Emma was certain she had a friend. She had hope. She wasn’t alone.

That didn’t make anything easier with Kaylee and Shelby, though. They, along with many others, assumed that if they talked louder, Emma would hear. They seemed shocked when Emma didn’t notice them behind her at lunch, directly after recess. Annoyed when she could only hear fragments of sentences and words, not even that clearly. They rushed to the conclusion she was lying; and just wanted attention.

Robot ears became an insult. Just like that, Emma barely had friends again. But she had Alyssa, and that one friend was better than being completely isolated. The insults didn’t get to her. Emma barely heard them anyway. Most of the taunts came on the playground, where everything was just white noise to her. So fifth grade went on. Emma became closer to Alyssa, who was still trying to get Kaylee and Shelby to come around and learn sign language. They didn’t.

Emma decided they weren’t worth her time. That was confirmed at elementary school graduation. They said she didn’t deserve her “diploma” because she had done nothing for it.

Upon summer vacation, Emma and Alyssa spent a lot of time at each other’s house. Their mothers got closer due to the fact that they spent so much time together. They went on a few day trips to things like the aquarium and county fair, much to their liking, but their favorite thing to do was turn on the radio in one of their bedrooms, with the bass amplifier, and turn on the new hits station while playing the Wii. There was no other way Emma would have wanted to spend her 10th birthday, despite the fact that her parents said double digits was a big deal. Oh, it was actually a bigger deal than that. Emma’s parents let the pair have the ice cream they kept in the fridge.

Another thing that happened, Emma’s grandparents officially moved to Edgewater. Emma was thrilled Alyssa could finally meet them, and she even got to play the guitar for her. She also signed a few songs by The Beatles while her grandfather played the guitar. And there was no way Alyssa would have rather spent her 10th birthday. Even when the pair wasn’t together, they were insistent upon connecting to multiplayer on the Pokèmon games they had on their Nintendo DS’s. 

Alyssa never seemed to care that Emma was mute through any of it. They communicated just fine. Emma’s parents adored her for that. They were just your average best friends. Laughed at each other’s jokes, made secret handshakes and friendship bracelets, had sleepovers, played too much truth or dare, convinced themselves fortune tellers were accurate, and the works.

The peace didn’t last. When sixth grade started, Kaylee and Shelby dragged Alyssa back to their lunch table, going on about their crushes, Nick and Kevin. Alyssa just shrugged, wondering how they could think that. She asked Emma, who had the same confused look on her face. To add onto the things in Alyssa’s life, her mother was pushing her to join the cheerleading squad. She wondered what happened to ‘I’m not going to force you. Your daddy wouldn’t want that.’ Did that still apply now that her mom had a new boyfriend? Kaylee and Shelby were definitely going to join, though, and Alyssa figured it may be fun because of that, but it meant spending way less time with Emma. And her timing was terrible.

She knew Emma wasn’t acting like herself. She started looking like she was constantly keeping a secret, and Alyssa could tell that she was just, sadder. Alyssa tried to talk to her, but she’d hardly respond. Alyssa tried cheering her up with some jokes, but she hardly laughed anymore. That was saddening to Alyssa. She loved the sound of Emma’s laugh. It was the closest thing to her voice she would get.

One day, Emma didn’t show up to the cafeteria, and Alyssa found herself thinking of her more than the Kevin boy she was supposed to be thinking of. She stood up suddenly, her body in control over her mind, and started running. There was something wrong, she could feel it.

After 5 minutes, Alyssa found Emma in the bathroom, crying.

*“Emma? What’s wrong?”

Alyssa was a little surprised to be pulled into an embrace by the blonde.

They stayed like that for ages.

Emma told her later that her grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer, and she didn’t know how to cope. She remained somewhat distant for all of sixth grade. It made sense to Alyssa. She didn’t mind.

But even through all the strain on them, Alyssa could see the anger flicker in her eyes with every time the kids in her classes yelled at her to “speak up”. Alyssa just prayed that she wouldn’t give up. On her grandpa, or herself.

As seventh grade came and went, Emma and Alyssa remained close, but Alyssa was spending more time with Kaylee and Shelby. And Emma was very confused as to how she felt about her.

In eighth grade, Alyssa tried dating, but would always come to Emma about how she never felt anything special. Every time, Emma would suppress the small spark of hope in her chest. She’d admitted it to herself, as scared as she was. She had a crush on her best friend.

Their 8th grade formal was a nightmare. The cafeteria was hardly big enough to hold the whole grade. Emma was beginning to feel claustrophobic, and she didn’t see Alyssa anywhere. It was too hot, she hated this dress. The school had neglected to buy bass boosted speakers, so Emma couldn’t even hear the music properly. Everything was white noise. She was crammed against a wall, pacing a yard back and forth. There was a beep. A perfectly timed beep. Her hearing aids went dead.

Everything went distant. She felt out of control of herself. She began to hyperventilate, barely able to process anything, as she spotted Alyssa entering the crowd. She stomped as loudly as she could, trying to get her attention. Luckily, it worked. She attempted to sign something, but her hands were too shaky. Alyssa didn’t hesitate to grab Emma’s wrist and lead her through the crowd, back out the cafeteria .

*”I can’t go back in there.” Emma’s eyes look wild and desperate, like a scared puppy.

*”You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Emma takes another shuddery breath, closing her eyes.

*”There was just too much going on.”

She opened her eyes again as she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. Alyssa looked at her inquisitively as she read the text from her mother.

Something’s happened to your grandpa. He’s dying. I’m picking you up. Meet me outside. Now.

For the first time that night, Emma started crying uncontrollably. Alyssa reached out a hand in an attempt to comfort her, but she only stepped away. Her hands start shaking again as she barely made out.

*”I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Emma barely remembered the drive to the hospital, only the warmth of her tears. Doctors led her and her mother down endless corridors until they came to her grandfather’s all too familiar hospital room. She spent countless weekends here over the past 2 years, trying to make the best of what they had left, but now it had a different energy. An energy full of despair. Her grandfather gestures for her to come to his bedside, where everyone is standing. His smile is lethargic as he points to his own neck, telling Emma, by extension, to put a hand on it so she could feel the vibrations of his vocal chords as he began to sing.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.” To everyone else in the room, his voice was barely audible.

Emma seemed to recognize the song from these vibrations. It felt like her radio usually did if she put a hand on the speakers. And she listened to this song a lot. It was her favorite. She stared into his eyes from above, begging him to hold on.

“Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.” 

Emma grabbed his hand with her unoccupied one, squeezing it tight.

“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get her.”

Emma leaned down a little further, placing her forehead on her grandfather’s.

“The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.”

The light in his eyes began to fade. He was running out of time. Emma had to do something, anything.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.”

Emma found herself sitting on the edge of his bed. She didn’t want to let go of him.

“For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder.”

But she had to.

“Hey Jude, don’t let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”

Emma sighed. No time like the present. She wiped a tear from his eye.

“So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin. You’re waiting for someone to perform with. And don’t you know it’s you, hey Jude, you’ll do. The movement you need is on your shoulder...” 

His voice dissipates. The line goes flat. Emma has been crying this whole time. She exhaled with a shudder, shaking her head repetitively, already in denial. Her father took a step closer to her as she opens her mouth.

“Hey Jude… don’t make it bad… take a sad song...and make it better…” Her voice was weak from not being used in years, combined with the heaves of her breathing.

“Remember to let her under your skin... Then you begin to make it better…”

Nothing in response. She let out a sob. Her grandfather was gone, for real. And everything hurt. Her muscles tensed as she let herself collapse on top of him.

She only spoke in the hopes she’d wake up and have this be a nightmare. She was sick of losing people. Sick of people not caring to reach out. She was sick of the last 7 years. She was sick of life.

Her last words to his corpse as it was lowered into the ground were, *”It’s been an honor, Popsy.”

The wind howled in response, rustling her newly short hair in the way he used to rustle it. Hell, he even cut it for her. It howled as if it were her popsy, up in heaven, telling her the honor was his.

When Emma started high school, she constantly looked as if she was about to snap at anyone and everyone who spoke to her. That meant Alyssa, unfortunately, got the worst of it. Emma remembered explicitly a specific conversation they had. Her and Shelby were, begrudgingly, given an assignment to do together for honors history. ‘Thankfully, after 4 years, Alyssa had finally convinced her friends to start learning ASL over the summer. That was good for everyone. However, you cannot interpret ASL without looking at it. And Shelby was definitely not looking at it. Emma now had to turn this classroom into Stonewall and start throwing anything in her vicinity in order to get remotely anything done.

It started with an extra pencil that skimmed past Shelby’s ear. Then a water bottle that hit it. She was picking up her textbook as she saw Shelby roll her eyes and turn around. It was obvious, with how slow and redundantly she signed, that it was, to her, a half hearted attempt at an extra credit assignment.

*You, you can...just—just, just, talk...to me…” She switched to verbal. “Oh, wait a minute!” She laughed, high-fiving Kaylee from the next desk over.

That was when Emma broke, flooded with anger. She didn’t want to give Shelby the satisfaction of hearing her speak, but she was done putting up with it. With her. With all these people who refused to listen; to realize how badly they would function if it meant living in her shoes for a day. How miserable they would be if cut off from 90% of the world, still trying to find the 9% who understood, while still heavily affected by the loss of a fraction of the 1% who didn’t understand, but were doing the absolute best they could.

“I can speak English just as well as you can, thank you very much. If you opened your ears half as much as you opened your mouth, then you would know that there’s numerous reasons for muteness. Yes, I can talk. Yes, I can still slightly hear. So, if I were you, I’d shut up real quick, because I won’t be the only mute one around here and it won’t be ink you write in to communicate.”

The classroom falls silent. Silent, until Shelby chuckles.

“Oh, so, in short, I didn’t have to deal with…” she makes a meaningless gesture with her hands. “...shit!”

Emma looks Shelby in the eyes, raising an eyebrow, almost mimicking the expression of Laura Benanti after describing Tootsie: The Musical Comedy(?) in a single sentence, saying absolutely nothing.

Kaylee snickers at the older of the two.

“You know, Shelbs, she makes quite the compelling argument.”

There was another giggle. But before Shelby could respond, the bell rang, and Emma stormed out of the classroom. She knew she couldn’t handle the cafeteria today, so she took her packed lunch to the band closet. Little did she know, she was being followed.

This is where the conversation takes place. Alyssa walks into the closet, finding Emma on the floor, listening to The Beatles through her speaker, a low growl coming from her throat. Alyssa frowned, kneeling down in front of her.

*“Hey, Emma, are you alright?”

Emma shook her head. *”This isn’t a fulfilling life.”

*”What do you mean?”

*”There’s no one like me around here. No one understands what it means to be me. I don’t fit in, don’t have friends. Am I so bad for wanting those things?”

*”Em, it’s like you’re forgetting we’ve been best friends since fifth grade.”

*“That’s ‘cause you’re all I’ve got!” Emma finally looked into Alyssa’s eyes, desperate. *”And I know you love Kaylee and Shelby, you’ve spent so much time with them since middle school, you forget how much I need you in my life. You like them more, don’t you?”

*”What? Emma...how could you say…”

*“You pity me! That’s all it could be! Your friends have never cared about me, why would you?”

“I’m-“

Emma sighed, leaning into Alyssa’s chest. *“I didn’t mean it, I just feel so lost.”

Alyssa felt a little flutter in her stomach at the contact. “Don’t we all…”

She spent the night in an incognito tab, googling Am I Gay quizzes, and being a little surprised as she remembered the beginning of her relationship with Emma. She liked this girl, maybe too much.

 

She’d admitted it to herself. And as scary as it was, she had a crush on her best friend.

Her best friend, who just lost her greatest mentor and probably couldn’t handle getting attached. Her best friend, who just admitted to needing her in her life. The thought of that made Alyssa’s heart skip.

At least Kaylee tried to make it up to Emma, who believed it was purely pity as her incentive.

10th grade. It passed with no notable events. Thank the Gods. Emma Nolan and Alyssa Greene were about to have the most insane year and a half of their lives.

In 11th grade, Emma came to school with bruises all down her side, a slightly swollen cheek, other marks parading her legs and neck. Alyssa couldn’t see half of the damage. But either way, Emma looked distraught and tired. She claimed she was fine, but Alyssa saw her wince as she sucked in a breath. She was probably surprised Alyssa still cared. So, what really happened?

*“Emma! Emma, I need to talk to you!” Her parents ripped open her door, her cell phone in hand. 

*“What is this?” 

Her phone displays an undeleted search history, zoomed in on the offenders. Gay memes. Emma knew she’d be outed in some stupid way, but a meme?

*”It won’t happen again!...”

But it did, a few weeks later. And it was worse. Her mom wasn’t home.

Her father had been rather emotionally distant and unavailable since she got diagnosed, only involving himself in her life halfheartedly. Emma came to hate the month of June in 5th grade, ironically, because it meant she had to pretend she didn’t know, somewhere in her gut, that her father wouldn’t care if she told him she loved him, or showed any kind of affection, spent any amount of hours on a Father’s Day. He’d reject her. She’d always be a disappointment to him, because she couldn’t be the “normal” kid he wanted. She had to pretend she didn’t know he didn’t love her for things she couldn’t change. She’d accepted it by now. That was why the loss of her grandfather destroyed her. He was the one father figure she had.

“Emma!” Her father was too pissed to sign.

“It happened again!”

*”What?”

“You!” A pause. “Googling things you shouldn’t be.”

Emma stood up, breathless.

*”What?!...”

“Dammit, Emma!” He catches her off guard, pushing her into her bookshelf. The impact came on her ribs, although several books fell down around her. They strike her legs and her neck. She whimpered.

“Might as well learn a thing or two from Bob Ross and beat the devil out of it…” 

Emma flinched at his intense scowl alone. *“Wouldn’t prayer work?”

“No, love. I tried that when you were first crippled. Didn’t work.”

Emma flinched again at his usage of ‘crippled’. How he spat it like a curse. 9 years later, it was still a curse. But now, all that made it a curse was the way the world perceived it.

She chose to shut out what happened next. All she knew is that she could never watch Bob Ross again. Next thing she knew, she was being ushered out of the house by her mother. Being told it wasn’t safe for her here, entire left side of her body completely numbed. Being told her mother would fix her when it was okay soon.

Fix her. Not this. Her.

She ran to her grandmother's house with a suitcase and duffel bag. Although, it was more like a shuffling limp due to her injuries, which were, by now beginning to burn and ache. By the time she knocked on her door, she was surprised she could even move. It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, thankfully, so her grandma was quick to answer the constant dings of the doorbell.

When she opened the door on that perfectly normal Saturday morning, Betsy Nolan was surprised to find her granddaughter at the doorstep, unannounced. She looked in no condition to be talking in any medium, however. One whole side of her body bruised and red and swollen, nose running viciously, eyes bloodshot and teary. Despite leaning entirely on her good side, she was still swaying, as if she was incredibly dizzy.

*“Emma? What’s going o--”

She was mid-word when Emma let out a weird squeaky moan from her throat, and crashed forward, passing out in her grandmother’s arms. 

5 hours later; the scariest 5 hours of Betsy’s life, mind you, Emma finally woke up, barely able to open her eyes, or move. Her chest was set on fire whenever she breathed. Her head throbbing. Her only comfort were the ice packs that covered her whole body.

*”Can you explain any of this, Em?” her grandmother begged. 

Emma blinked, still only half-conscious. Eventually, she nodded, tears already returning. It physically hurt to cry due to her bruises.

An hour and a half’s worth of bruises she was shocked didn’t come sooner.

She stayed home from school all that week to recover, both physically and emotionally, but it was already the talk of the town by the time she returned. Not in a good sense of the term. No one seemed to care that her father beat her up, and that that was a very good reason to miss a few days of school. They only cared that she was gay. She was gay, and now they refused to look at her long enough to give her the courtesy of explanation.

The rumors spread so fast and ran so toxically rampant that it only took until 3 days after she was forced out for Mr. Hawkins, the school principal, to come aware of them. He actually actively sought the truth that evening, ringing the doorbell to Emma’s grandmother’s house to find Emma curled up in a ball on the couch as the widowed Nolan led him to the kitchen table to explain the situation. The man was a school official, and, in Betsy’s mind, had heard enough bogus from students. He needed to know the truth if he was going to help Emma at all, if he even wanted to.

So Betsy told the whole story as Emma had told her.

The images in Mr. Hawkins’s mind were so horrid, he could hardly even recall that this was a minor who had lived it, not some convict.

But the thing he would most vividly recall was the piece of the aftermath he had witnessed. The poor thing was covered head to toe in ice packs, groaning in pain whenever she had to move. The spoon for her now lukewarm soup would shake in her hand. As he was leaving, Betsy walked over to comfort her, and all Emma could manage was a seething moan of agony.

*“I know, baby girl, I know…”

He let the door swing shut behind him. Walking off, he began to think. He had never been deemed homophobic before, but now he actually had an important job, for once in his career as a principal. Protect this girl.

Emma never bothered with the cafeteria anymore. It was too risky. However, she was surprised to find a visitor one day. Alyssa, on the band closet floor, eating her lunch alone, humming a tune by The Beatles. Emma froze as she stood up. Now, at least she knew what a fool she looked like.

*” What do you want, because if it’s to make a mockery out of me, I’ll pass.”

Alyssa shook her head. *”I just wanted to...talk. Y’know, like, friends.”

She walked over to her.

*”Obviously, I’ve heard all the shit. How are you holding up?” 

Emma took a step back, refusing to trust anyone. Alyssa smirked, and suddenly memories from a few days ago whirled in her mind. Had she looked, through, she would’ve seen that that smirk was different.

*”Boy, am I gonna have to knock some sense into you.” 

Emma visibly tensed at the one liner, prepared to run. Alyssa pushed her against the wall lightly. Emma suddenly felt squeamish and claustrophobic. Memories crashed through her again and she almost started crying, breath heaving. Time moved in slow motion and she was certainly sweating as her knees buckled. 

“Beat the devil out of it…”

The crack of her dad’s gun as he purposely aimed it to graze her legs, but do no real damage.

The faint buzz of his blows that rang in her ears.

Trying to fight back, only to get hit harder. To the point where it knocked her down and she was stuck in a corner.

His belt pulled off a shocking amount.

So did his fist.

Leaving the house in the cold sting of a midwestern winter with no coat because she had no time to grab one, and the deranged look on her dad’s face was getting worse by the minute and he kept finding new shit to do.

90 minutes.

90 minutes.

Suddenly, she was back in reality. Pinned against a wall, fearing for her life for reasons that were irrational, but she believed them.

Without thinking, she pushed her away.

Alyssa looked at the terror in every detail of her face. 

*“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

*”It’s fine, I’m just…” Emma shook her hand repeatedly, searching for the word. *”Flabbergasted?”

Alyssa laughed. For the first time in years, it felt genuine. *“Who says ‘flabbergasted’?”

Emma pointed to herself.

Alyssa smiled, and it really shouldn’t have made Emma feel the way it did. She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t embrace any of this right now.

Until Alyssa kissed her.

It was short and sweet, wrapped up in a little neat bow and package.

It was perfectly Alyssa Greene. Forget the pickup line gone awry. Suddenly Emma wanted more. Not right now, though. That was overwhelming. Too much had happened this month. And it wasn’t even Christmas yet.

Emma’s mom e-mailed her that evening, asking if she was to come home for the holiday. She found herself pacing in a corner over that until Betsy told her that if she was still so skeeved by the suggestion, it wasn’t a good idea. It would take more than a week to recover from that trauma, but it was okay. She was okay. She was safe. She was still human. And Betsy Nolan would do anything to never let her forget it.

But by the end of senior year, she seemed to forget it. Things were great between her and Alyssa, and she had started therapy to cope with her post-traumatic stress disorder that was the after effect of a year and a half ago, but bitches were bitches. The homophobia wore her out like a chisel on wood. And suddenly it was worse than ever. She asked Alyssa to senior prom and the PTA went apeshit and canceled it. Everyone knew it was her fault.

Now some insane Broadway actors have barged in on their high school. Blabbing too quickly about...Honesty, Emma couldn’t piece any of it together. At all. She talked with Alyssa about it one single time before they were ripped apart by the chaos. Not literally. Yet.

*”I gotta go, my mom is going on about these actors and is getting even stricter, somehow.”

*”I don’t understand what this is!”

*”They wanted to help us get our prom back, but I think they have ulterior motives.” Alyssa had a harsh expression as she walked off. *”I really have to go, Em. Love you.”

Of course, she didn’t forget a kiss on the cheek, but it was tense.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know she’s deaf, Dee Dee?” 

Barry Glickman and Dee Dee Allen, two failing Broadway actors with atrocious reputations for being narcissistic, hold a conversation in their motel room in Edgewater, Indiana. They are half of the team trying to help the ‘little lesbian’, as Barry calls her.

“I didn’t think you could be more than one minority, Barry! Unless you’re a woman of color, in which case...rare. Don’t you watch movies? How do I even begin to believe someone disabled is gay when said movies neuter them of all normal sexual and romantic feelings?!”

“Jesus Christ, Dee Dee.”

The door suddenly busts open, revealing a panting Trent Oliver.

“Did someone call?”

Barry turns to the door, “Jesus fucking Christ, Not Trent fucking Oliver.”

Angie popped her head in. “I support Trent fucking Oliver for his bisexual rights, but Jesus fucking Christ seems weird and slightly counterintuitive.”

“Shut up.”

Trent turned red.

“Anyway!” Angie piped up again. “Any clue why the kid’s ignoring us?”

“She’s deaf. We just finished the other three quarters of that news story.”

“I know sign language!” Trent barged into the conversation.

The other 4 smiled.

But it turns out he only knew the alphabet, because he did The Miracle Worker. And it turns out that there are signs for words that aren’t spelling, and that spelling is very confusing when incoherently done.

However, they figured it out, and Emma got a prom!

Until she didn’t.

It was fake. It was a plan everyone but her knew about. It was pretty easy to keep a secret, with her barely able to piece together their conversations. It broke Emma and Alyssa apart, for literal interpretation this time.

At that point, the actors had gotten pretty close to her. Barry, in particular, helped her get ready for prom and gave her a father she hadn’t had since her grandpa died. Trent helped change the minds of the kids in her town. Angie gave her confidence, and Dee Dee...well, she’d come around.

But then they paid for a second prom.

And suddenly Trent and Barry are helping her get fit for a suit. Through it, though, Emma was writing a song for Alyssa. She hadn’t been around for her raging fit in ninth grade, and Emma wanted her to hear her voice. It wouldn’t be an online spectacle, but it was Emma’s.

“I don’t want to start a riot, I don’t want to blaze a trail…”

Alyssa called it an honor to hear her voice.

She hummed the tune to herself as she strolled into the PTA meeting, heart stopping as her mother ranted about the inclusive second prom that spread

Then Alyssa may have accidentally come out in front of her mother thanks to that one little moment that showed her her girlfriend still cared, still had hope that a dream could come true. That would not have happened just a year ago. The whole school knew about them now.

Now they were at prom. Together. They held hands and no one looked. Emma can feel the music; lights going to the beat made her emotional. She was sitting on a speaker as ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ by The Beatles began booming through them. There were no words exchanged, Emma and Alyssa just got on the dance floor and began messing around, like they did in the band closet while everyone else was exuberantly prom-posing 3 weeks ago. They crammed a long kiss in the impromptu routine.

Oh, and Dee Dee? She came around. Emma caught her signing the whole thing and she starting crying from joy. She had been waiting 5 years for a damn school dance to go right. This was far from right. It was perfect.

That Christmas, the actors gave her a little bell, and she couldn’t hear it, but she kept it just to see their faces as they laughed. They had Christmas dinner in Emma and Alyssa’s little college dorm. Alyssa is telling the tale of how they first met.

They were never similar in the way of hearing, but through all of it, they always had each other.


End file.
